


The Extremely Heated and Controversial Courtship of One Percy Weasley

by lyraelights



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Good Percy Weasley, My OC is poking a sleeping lion, Percy gonna snap and show why he's in Gryffindor, Politics, Reincarnation, Self-Insert, So Much Politics, The interesting question as to how Americans handle the brief but terrifying regime of Voldemort, Worldbuilding, character growth!, shameless flirting
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-27
Updated: 2021-02-01
Packaged: 2021-03-13 14:02:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,068
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29029878
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lyraelights/pseuds/lyraelights
Summary: "Tell me, Undersecretary Weasley," I sweetly began, "what can your administration do for the United States?"Flashing my red Louboutins at him, Percy's deliciously freckled face flushes red. As an American diplomat negotiating with the volatile and ever-changing Magical British administration, it's nice to have a cute face to look at.
Relationships: Audrey Weasley/Percy Weasley, Original Female character/Percy Weasley
Comments: 20
Kudos: 101





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to the terrible nagging fly that flew around in my brain, refusing to let me have any sleep. Greatly inspired by "Impeaching modesty" by PeanutButterWhiskyTime and "A most Auspicious Mistake" From Acacia Carter, I really wanted to try my hand at SI-OC in HP Universe. 
> 
> This is going to be about SI-OC Audrey who fights/flirts with the straight-laced Percy Weasley in their official capacity as government servants. Their lives intersect over the span of several years, including several regimes, like Fudge/Rufus/Voldemort/Kingsley. Audrey enjoys teasing her British Counterpart because he gets so easily flustered, and one day our dear old Percy just snaps. :D

* * *

Honestly, I didn't realize I was in the Harry Potter world until much later in my schooling years.

From when I was born, I had an acute awareness of the world. I understood most of what was written and spoken. I understand the implicit and explicit actions. Memories and recognition were all there, but the processing part got a little floozy. The brain as a series of channels disseminating information from neuron to neurons. The more you think, the more those channels get developed and the easier it becomes to recall something.

This is what I remember:

The plush softness of my cotton blankets. Playing with the neighborhood kids trying to hijack the soda machines. My mother taking me on Sundays to little, small community of Chinatown for grocery shopping. We would venture into the shops for "zhongyao," traditional Chinese herbal medicine and she'd pick up items like powdered horn, animal skin, and congealed blood. I thought nothing of it because traditional Chinese medicine like rhinoceros horn and birds nest exists even though I never understood it.

Little did I know that we actually bought back your typical potions ingredients of powdered bicorn horn, toad intestines, and dragon blood.

I never thought I was consuming action potions whenever I got sick, and would fuss endlessly as to why I couldn't eat those tablet cough medicines. My mother would simply tsk at me sternly and force the ominous brown liquid into my mouth.

"I made this just for you. It's a traditional Chinese cure." 

_Ugh, gross._

Father's job was in the import/export business of agriculture which was actually dealing with rare herbology. Actual weeping willows and sturdy magical wood grew abundantly in the North Americas compared to the rest of Western Europe and East Asia. So, in the end, I always thought that mother was a chemistry professor and father was some type of businessman.

They were highly educated and well-earning individuals. I thought my new life was a comfortable upper-class one, not one full of drama.

Of course, this all came to a head when my mother took me to interview in a series of pre-schools.

.

"So here is our new building dedicated to astronomy," the women gestured to the grand room ahead. "We take a hands-on approach early at the Packer Collegiate Institute. Our newly constructed ceiling reflects the location of celestial bodies regardless of the weather outside, allowing our students to study the stars to the fullest extent possible."

My mother nodded in understanding at the wide circular expanse. The space was truly beautiful, with glass-stained windows to represent the phases of various moons. Above our heads were the planetary bodies stretched in holographic glow. 

"Do they learn the appropriate arithmetic calculations in their studies?" my mother asked, her face blank.

The tour guide's face twisted in confusion.

"Applications to astronomy is quite advanced, typically reserved for our middle scholars. We tend to nurture our students with independent interests and sensory learning before any in-depth instruction."

Mother frowns. You can see any respect for this pre-K institution flying right out the window. 

"I see," she tries to respond politely. 

A little frazzled, the tour guide leads us through the room, intent on impressing us with the next stop of tour. 

As for me, I'm confused at the unnecessary additions to the school. Why were there so many statues of white monks dressed in robes? Why was there an astronomy building? Why is the chemistry lab three subfloors down? 

_It's so weird._

I reach out to hold my mother's hand for comfort.. 

"Mama, what's so important about astronomy?" I ask her, "It seems so silly."

"Astronomy is essential field of learning," mother responded tersely. "It helps for real-life applications in brewing, understanding states of matter, and foundations of alchemy."

She takes a deep breath, squatting down to brush my hair out of my face. "Our family has a long tradition of studying potions and alchemy. I'm a alchemist as our your _jiujiu._ Your grandfather was a very famous alchemist. Maybe you'll be an alchemist one day too."

_She means chemistry, right? Mom, please work on your English vocabulary._

Eager to please, the tour guide chimes in.

"Ah! Yes, the great Master Huang was a wonderful alchemist. You must be the younger Master Huang teaching at the University. It's wonderful to have someone with your magical expertise here. Perhaps we can have you as a guest speaker for some of our upper-class students studying practical alchemy?"

Mother smiles graciously and the tour guide is enthusiastic in ushering her to the assistant headmaster office to set something up. 

There I was at the tender age of four, trying to wrap my head around the ridiculous nonsense I just heard. 

Words thrown around like "alchemy" and "transfiguration" all wrapped with the neat little bow.

.

_Magical expertise._

.

Am I being punked?

.

Sure enough when Mother returns with glossy packets of Packer Collegiate Institute, I shuffle through the brochure soaking in the words describing classes on ancient languages, reading, drawing astronomy, potions, and transfiguration. Words like best pre-K school to attend as a pipeline to the esteemed _Ilvermorny School of Witchcraft and Wizardry_ float across the page. 

My first instinct was shock.

Second was the pure unadulterated joy.

Here, here in my new life I could live out my dreams of being an actual wand-waving _witch._

Magic alone isn't enough to associate with being in Harry Potter because there were so many stories I grew up with magic. From Wizards of Waverly Place, Winx Club, and even Star Wars…isn't there always that childish desire that you are chosen with great powers and part of secret underground society?! I've also never even heard of Ilvermorny School of Witchcraft and Wizardry before, so it seemed like I was just in a world where magic was real. I barely had any time to wrap my head around everything before my mother began packing my schedule with focused attention of a commander training her troops. By seven, every day was packed with activities and lessons to the hour. Ever day I was carted off to my various classes and extracurriculars. Aside from normal 9-3 elementary classes, Mondays Wednesdays, and Fridays were dedicated to linguistic studies. Tuesdays and Thursdays were dedicated to math. Saturdays were for piano class and swimming. Sundays were for dancing and calligraphy.

I was a busy busy bee under the tender nursing of my ambitious, highly educated, and terrifying Tiger Mother. To her credit, it was never overwhelming despair I trudged to all my classes, it was sorta the realization that everything was a foundational purpose to appear as an "upstanding witch," whatever that meant. To properly channel magic, I needed to have a firm grasp on the language on various language and their root origins. As a Chinese witch, I had access to special ancient familial magic relating to runes and alchemy, hence the class on calligraphy, the art of detail. The classes for math, music, swimming, and dance were all my mother's way of making sure I was "well-rounded." 

So after a rather busy and crammed childhood, I soon sat the entrance exams for secondary learning in North America. While I had already been accepted to the Academy for Salem Witches, it was to my family's expectation that I was to enroll in the _best._

Mom--mom was an absolute troll about the whole thing.

She simply grabbed me after calligraphy class one day, piled me into the car, gave me a sandwich, and started driving to the testing site.

.

"You're going to take a test for the next few hours."

Stuffing my face with the ham and egg, I look up at her.

"What are you talking about?"

"Our family isn't a legacy candidate, so our chances of getting into Ilvermorny are not very good. 60% for legacy candidates, 30% of student body for first generation magical, and then 10% through qualifying exams. Your chances aren't great, but it's a good idea to take the exams downtown" Mom matter-of-factly states. 

"I'm not ready! Mama, I don't want to do this. Salem is good enough!"

A New York driver honks at her, and Mom scowls in the rearview mirror. 

"I already paid the testing fee," she says darkly, "so you're going to sit there and take the exam for three hours. It is not a big deal."

"But I don't want to take a test" I whined petulantly.

She flashes me a cold and dead look capable of flash-freezing a fly. My puffed-up chest subsided. I was so not going to get out of this.

Goddamnit.

.

.

Three tests, three interviews, and four hours later, I met my mom at the building lobby. 

"That was terrible," I hissed. "It was absolutely draining, and I can't believe you made me do this!" 

She shrugged and handed me a delicious pastry. Stuffing my face like an angry chipmunk, I just growled at her. She just cooed, patted my face, and took me to my favorite bread store to pick up strawberry cake and pineapple buns. 

She knows me too well. 

.

.

To my mother's satisfaction and pleasure, we got the acceptance phone call a week later,

"Good," she smirked. "Professor Jun has been insufferable lately at the University about his family's illustrious and proud history at Ilvermorny. Really, it's not that hard to get-in. The Jun family lost all their money in Korea and had to flee for the United States. Does he really think his family is that great?"

"Yeah, cuz it's all about showing up another family," I commented sarcastically.

She waved me off, "It's about saving face and familial politics. Try not to get lower than his nephew in the class rankings."

I lift my chin proudly. I may not care as much about familial politics, but I care a lot about crushing my adversities through my intellectual powers. 

"Will do." I declared, "I'll crush him like the bug he is."

* * *

Jun's nephew actually turned out to be a really sweet and funny guy. 

.

.

Still, that didn't prevent us from competing like mad for top marks all the way until graduation. 

.

.

In the middle of our fifth year, Rex Jun plops down in the seat next to me. He grabs one of the croissants at the table and pours the carafe of coffee into his cup.

"So, have you thought about your apprenticeship yet?"

Not even bothering to look up from the text of mathematical equations, I shrug idly. "It's been pretty much decided that I'll spend summer with grandpa at the Chinese Institute for Alchemy and then rotate with different researchers. I think Mom and Grandpa have a weird list of what they want me to do. Your father also offered me a spot in his research group and recommended me to a few Korean researchers. Not going to lie, it was a little strange."

"Sorry about that," Jun said. He sighed, long and low. 

I glance up at him, poor guy was under a lot of stress.

"He's still upset with you?"

"Yeah. Since I enrolled in the early Auror Corp program, he stopped talking with me," Jun comments bitterly. "To him, I don't exist anymore until I drop out of the program. Mom just talks about how dangerous it is to become an Auror."

"They just don't want you to die in a blaze of fire and magic."

He scowls. "It's about serving our country." 

Jun is a little weird about his mixed identity politics. As a third-generation Korean American, he has strong feelings on serving for one's country. His cousins back home in Korea are all going through mandatory conscription, and Jun seems to be determined to with sense of service from their stories. He's a talented and athletic wizard. In his eyes, he has a responsibility to utilize his skills for Magical America. Somehow, that meant enrolling in the Auror Corp early entry program at 16, taking the after-school Auror preparatory classes in Ilvermorny for two years before gaining full commission in the Auror Corp after graduation. 

A true career patriot. 

I would sneer, but it's hard though, in the face of Jun's noble conviction to serve. Some days, I don't know how he didn't end up in the House of Wampus, the house of warriors.

Eager to deflect from his life problems, Jun switches the topic. "Did you hear about old White Beard's offer?"

"White Beard" was our joking reference to our parent's British nemesis in the field of Alchemy. Almost every other month, our parents liked to drink wine and complain about good old White Beard. It was all "White Beard rejected my paper again," and "White Beard doesn't know anything about traditional alchemy arts.

Blah blah blah, insert complaining on old batty White Beard.

It's become a running joke between our families by now. Old White Beard and his crazy dodgy antics. 

"No," I respond. "What's the ancient coot doing this time?"

Jun smirks. "He's offering an alchemy apprenticeship this year. It's the first time he accepting a student in decades. Word has it, he'll even recruit out of the pool of English wizards. You could apply, I'm sure you have good chance." 

"Who would want that?" I scoff. "From what I hear, his work is brilliant, but takes painfully long to get anything for years. I don't want to be stuck with him for that long. Do you know he apprenticed under Flamel for ten year? That's just nuts. "

Jun shrugs."Well, sure, but from a political standpoint, getting chummy with the great Albus Dumbledore is not a bad idea."

I snort into my book. 

"Yeah, like Albus Dumbledore is an actual real person here. No such person exists in field of alchemy."

Jun looks at me consternation. "You do know that Dumbledore tends to use a pseudonym in academic circles. He uses his middle name for academic papers to avoid the media attention and bias during peer reviews."

My eyes blank in incomprehension.

Dumbledore was not real. 

_Dumbledore was not real._

My look of absolute horror and confusion must be real, because Jun just looks at me with exasperation. 

"Do you not follow international politics at all?" Jun asks. "Old White Beard is the head of ICW!" 

_No, I don't pay attention to international politics. I've been too busy kicking your ass in class to subscribe to any international wizarding papers. I barely pay attention to MACUSA politics, how was I supposed to pay attention to other crap!_

_._

I slam the latest Journal of Transfiguration shut, standing-up with burning purpose.

"Excuse me," I declare viciously, "I'm going to go catch-up on the last fifty years of international politics. 

.

With that, I rushed off to the library to try and fully understand where in the Harry Potter timeline I have found myself in.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Before we get to the flirting drama, I thought I should establish some of the SI-OC background. Bear with me for the next two-three chapters... 
> 
> I've been reading a lot of works where Percy is a double agent working for the Order. Do you think I should try and do that, or stick more to canon???


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you reviewers for all your wonderful comments! Reviewers gave me so much confidence and motivation to push-out second chapter. I hope Chinese elements and politics is interesting for all my lovely readers. I imagine Audrey's ridiculously flirty shenanigans will happen in the next chapter since that's when Percy & Audrey will actually meet. :))

* * *

Buried in the school library, my study table was littered with old newspapers.

Where do you start when you try and piece together a timeline of fifty years?

First things first, was to start digging through the last Wizarding World. Although Grindelwald tried to seize power in the United States, the MACUSA government were extremely hesitant in entering in the Global Wizarding War of 1930s-1945. You can see it splashed all across the American wizarding newspapers at the time.

Titles of " _MACUSA maintains isolationist policy"_ and " _War in Europe Continues"_ liter the front pages, hardly a rousing cry for American wartime policy.

Based on the early 1940s papers, Grindelwald declared war on the world, rampaged all across Europe and forced magical communities into his new German empire. There were some pockets of resistance, but majority were snuffed out with great violence. Despite the rather obnoxious title of "Global" wizarding war, the rest of Asia and the Americas were untouched by "boots on ground" magical warfare. Grindelwald could not stretch his agents to overturn centuries stable governments in the rest of the world. He tried levying economic trade policies, but in the end, he focused on maintaining his territories before stretching all across Europe, just stopping shy of Great Britain. After all, if he entered Dumbledore's domain, Dumbledore would have no choice but to confront him.

So essentially for fifteen years, Dumbledore did nothing.

It's not fair to criticize Dumbledore since foreign governments didn't do anything better.

Oh, of course, governemnts including the U.S. made demands—claimed the illegitimacy of Grindelwald and advocated for self-determination. But when it comes down to actually committing resources and manpower to end Grindelwald's regime, MACUSA really held out until the last few years of the war to get involved.

I flip through the international newspapers, having to skim through the world news specifically for England. This would be a lot easier if I had access to an English newspaper, but Ilvermorny doesn't carry such trash like the _Daily Prophet_.

"BRITISH CIVIL WAR ENDS _"_ captioned one of the articles in the 1980s.

_Found it._

I read through the article, reporting the end of the first British Civil War. The insurgency group of British conservatists falling apart as their leader, self-proclaimed "Lord Voldemort" has disappeared. The newly grounded British government was now struggling to rebuild and hunt down last insurgents, and the author of the article made rather dubious remarks as to the competency of the British ministry. Insurgent "Death Eaters" were wealthy and highly connected.

"… _It seems highly unlikely as British Auror Corp has dwindled in numbers and corruption continues within the British Ministry."_ No wonder no one in Britain likes to read foreign newspapers, nobody really had anything good to say.

I hissed in frustration. It was not enough. I needed more. I need to know if everything was expected or if something was different.

.

* * *

.

Smashing the Mandrake's wailing face, I relished in its silenced whimpers. I reach for my gardening scissors, making a nice sharp snipping noise. The mandrake seems to curl into itself. _That's right, try and hide before I start cutting you up._

I admit, I'm a little bloodthirsty. These mandrakes have purposefully bit my fingers all year. I couldn't retaliate since I needed them fully grown before harvesting.

Now, it's payback time.

After a relaxing session of chopping up plants, Professor Geller gives me green-light to leave early. Everyone else is a little behind since they are a bit squirrely about chopping up a crying blob that looks like a baby.

_Heh. Not a problem for me._

As I'm about to head to the dorms, Cathy Chen steps from a gaggle of her friends to block my path.

"Katarina is hosting tea tonight," she says ominously.

I sigh in suffering.

Katarina is what my Mom likes to describe as " _mei shiqing, jiu zhao shiqing."_ Roughly translated: girl doesn't have problems, so she creates problems.

I like my translation better. Katarina is a girl who relishes in bloodshed and drama.

It's hard to describe Katarina. She's a bit like Regina from _Mean Girls_ and Blair from _Gossip Girl._ Her family has is well-off, she's super trendy, and she's well-connected. But she's not the wealthiest person in school and she's not necessarily the prettiest girl in school. She's a lot like Blair in this sense. While Blair's best friend Serena in _Gossip Girl_ had more money and appearance of a goddess, Blair was still "Queen Bee" of school.

In the end, the title of "Queen" really came down to keeping your subjects in line. Do people move when you move? Do people listen when you speak? Do other popular and respected follow you?

Through a combination of wealth, connections, flattery, and coercion, Katarina has managed to climb to student with most influential role. In terms of the school grounds, what she wants, she gets. _Don't like the new fitness instructor?_ Katarina gets them fired. _Want to suggest a prom theme?_ Katarina has to approve. _Want a job after graduation?_ Be nice to Katarina, and she might hook you up in one of her family's corporations.

And so Katarina likes to hold "tea" every now and then, extending invitations to this year's "worthy girls I will associate with this year."

To miss her tea is akin to social suicide.

I offer a weak agreeing smile to Cathy. The girl in question nods in return before gliding back to her circle of friends.

There go my plans for tonight.

.

_._

Katarina greets me at the entry of the tea parlor. "It's nice to see you, Audrey."

"It's been so long," I say, mustering a smile in her direction.

"I know," she sighs breathily. Grasping my forearm, she links her left arm with my right arm, like we're close friends going for a stroll. "We should catch-up."

"Umm…" I look back at the girls behind me, all waiting patiently to greet Katarina individually

She tosses her head dismissively, "It's fine, Cathy can deal with them."

With that, she dragged me off to one of the empty tables with a prearranged tea-set. We both sit, and Katarina's ivory hands automatically glide to prepare tea. I'm not sure if this is Katarina flexing her skill by following the infinitely more complex Chinese tea ceremony over British tea ceremony.

Proper Chinese tea ceremony is convoluted and an absolute pain.

Proper procedure dictates tea must be boiled with different types of water at differing water temperature. Each type of tea must also be served in the "appropriate" cup with the "right stylized table." During one memorable summer, my Auntie commissioned dozens of glass cups to find that perfect "appropriate cup." I had to ask her. _Does it really matter what cup the tea is served in?_ Yes, it matters so much. My Auntie spent the rest of the week brow beating me with the tea etiquette and how a good Chinese lady knows proper tea ceremony. Thank heavens, my parents abandoned convoluted Chinese culture in favor of the American attitude of do whatever the hell you want.

So while I don't keep track or care about the right tea etiquette, some Chinese-Americans do. Exhibit A: Katarina.

The girl in question pours me a cup elegantly. "We're having _Pu-Erh_ ," she declares, "First picked tea leaves of the season."

"How lovely," I comment politely. I examine the low-fired teacup. It's a light shade of molten reddish-brown. "This pottery is absolutely gorgeous."

She flashes me a pleased smile, "It's part of Master Chen's most recent work. My family bought the set in an auction last month." Master Chen's is the couture of pottery makers on the Eastern Hemisphere, so his stuff is normally displayed as artwork, not actually meant to be _used._ It's an unreasonable lavish tea set, so it's weird Katarina brought this to school. Most of our classmates are not going to care about late 18th century pottery.

I drink my tea slowly.

Katarina wanted me to see this. She wants to flex her money. How wonderfully ominous.

"So how are you settling in this year?" she begins. Her brown eyes deceitfully gentle, eyebrows slanted in faux concern.

"Very well!" I reply instantly, trying to convey jubilant cheerfulness. "I'm learning a great deal, but I imagine I'll learn more after I Alchemist apprenticeship this year."

"I'm glad to hear that," she said, "I was concerned you might be overwhelmed with all those advanced classes you're taking. I heard Jun gained the edge in rankings this year."

"Well, Jun may be coming ahead in exams," I admit, "but in terms of assignments grading, I usually come out on top."

The School Queen nods in agreement as she puts down his cup of tea on the table. It makes no noise, but somehow her gracefulness came across as so much more threatening. "We are good friends, are we not? So lets have a good and honest discussion with each other."

"Sure," I say hesitantly. We were friends? I don't know about that, but let's roll with her claim.

"You are aware my family deals primarily with production of magical objects" Katarina says proudly.

I nod. Everyone knows Katarina's family deal with production of magically enhanced objects like bottomless bags, Remember ball thingies, and everlasting ink. 

Katarina pauses deliberately with her words. She decides to smile first, and it's absolutely terrifying. "However, due to recent events, we are having…distribution problems. The new ICW laws passed have set up more restrictions for the transportation of foreign manufactured objects."

Okay...what does this have to do with me? My father has been having the same issues in moving agriculture products, but it's not really my business. I wait for Katarina to get to the point.

"The main perpetrator," Katarina sneers, "seems to be the head of ICW, the esteemed Albus Dumbledore."

"That seems rather odd," I point out, "he's been in charge of ICW for so long, but he has never pushed policy like this before."

Katarina grimaces. "Father has tried to set-up meetings, even sent some of those British Owls to Hogwarts. Dumbledore refused to take any of our meetings. Any motions on the ICW floor has been stalled indefinitely. His only public statements are him hamming and hawing to look at the bigger picture. Access to him so limited right now, especially considering the political mess in Britain right now."

I still have anything to say, so I remain silent. 

Katarina levels me a look across her tea.

"You have access to Dumbledore in ways I do not."

_Um, what?_

I swallow my tea quickly. What crack is she on? I've never even met Dumbledore, let alone have set-foot in England.

"I really don't," I offer weakly. 

Katarina snorts, or something the queenly equivalent.

"Oh please, spare me," Katarina says as she refills my cup with _Pu-Erh._ "We all know Dumbledore issued the call for alchemy apprentices. It's the first time he's openly declared intention to receive students. He'll only agree to meetings with prospective Alchemy students or British politicians. Everyone else is waved off."

She gives me a pointed look. "I want you to meet with him, figure out what the hell is going on with his new ICW policies."

"….you do know I'm already finishing my apprenticeship with the Huang family, right?" I state incredulously. Surely, she can't be asking me to give-up my career goals for the sake of infiltrating Albus Dumbledore's political camp.

Katarina waves her hand in dismissal.

"It's not like you're making a commitment to Dumbledore. Say you're young, say you're looking for opportunities outside the family. Say your mother and grandfather are overbearing, and you're curious about western alchemy."

It's not a bad excuse, the wayward apprentice seeking for excitement. Unspoken is that if I don't agree to Katarina's request, my school life could become very unpleasant. I sigh internally. Saying no would generate so much needless drama. Do I want to fight Katarina for Queen position? I mean, I could, but it'd be such a pain for so little reward. Thoughts spinning, I steel myself to gain something out of this conversation.

"Oh, I'm afraid that's a lot to ask for," I demur. "For the only granddaughter of Master Huang to deviate from his teachings is such a great blow to my mother's family. Even whispers of my meeting with Dumbledore will damage my family's reputation in the field."

To this day, there is still an ongoing debate as to the methodology and practice of alchemy. While the origin of alchemy stems from the classical Chinese tradition, the medieval practices of Western Europe have started to garner more traction in the past two centuries. Given my family's illustrious background, we obviously support the old Chinese traditions. 

Katarina's face darkens in understanding. I'm not going to help her for free. It's always been a game of give and take. 

"What do you want?" she demands.

"A small favor in the future." I state bluntly. Then thinking for a moment, I add another condition. "Also, I want you to put in a good word for my cousin, he's seeking a courting arrangement with the Liu family." Cousin Huang may be a well-regarded in student circles, but Huang's family's wealth is significantly less than the Liu family. Mom's side of the family went through much crap about being up-start gold-diggers. Right now, discussions of marriage are paused...a good word from Katarina's family could smooth any disgruntlement over the family's wealth disparity.

If I could help Cousin David, he and his new rich wife will owe me for an eternity. Yes, this is shaping up to be a rather skilled negotiation on my part.

"Fine, "Katarina bites out, "but I'll only agree to help your cousin's courtship if you can figure around some ICW restrictions."

"Done"

With meaningful intent, I smile, and lift my cup. Katarina follows, lifting her cup as well. We drink in union, sealing our agreement with each other.

.

* * *

.

The next day, taped on my door was the notice of a mail-order. Apparently, my order for the _Rise and Fall of Dark Lords_ , _A History of Magic Britain,_ and subscription of _Daily Prophet_ arrived and was waiting for me in the commons.

Tearing through my packages, I absconded to the dining room with my newfound goodies. I nodded and smiled to the appropriate members of my house and those associated with Katarina's circle. They noticed the books in my hand and gave me a wide berth.

Smart people.

Unlike Hogwarts, we did not divide the dining room into four long tables. Instead, we promoted inter-unity eating by providing circular tables, allowing the intermingling of students from differing houses.

I purposefully chose an empty table in the corner, fully intending on spending breakfast alone.

When I finally started scrolling through the table of contents for _Magical Britain_ , it occurred to me that nothing seems to deviate from the original HP universe.

The Potters died. Harry Potter was sent to live somewhere unknown. Peter Pettigrew was supposedly dead. Sirius Black was taken into custody for betraying the Potters. The Longbottom couple was tortured into insanity. Dumbledore ominously declared the Dark Lord shall rise again. Heck, even Fudge remained as the Minister of Magic.

Themost recent publication of the _Daily Prophet_ announced the continued missing state of Sirius Black and issued a warning for the general public.

This would place me two-three years older than Harry Potter, and three-four years from Great Britain breaking out into another devastating civil war.

My lips pursed in annoyance.

This was a heavy burden to carry. Was it my responsibility to change the wrongdoings of Britain? Or was it best to just let the story play itself out? A part of me wished Harry Potter timeline was different, that there was some great deviance from my understanding so I could reasonably wash my hands entirely of the matter.

Because England should not my problem.

I crumple the trash that is _Daily Prophet_ into a ball. I decided then and there, that I wanted nothing to do with the drama of Harry Potter and Voldemort

.

.

Of course, then Dumbledore actually responds to my inquiring letter:

_Miss Zhang,_

_I am pleased to have received your application package for the Alchemy apprenticeship position and would like to extend an interview invitation at your nearest convenience. Interviews are currently being scheduled for the week of next. Please contact with Deputy Headmaster_ McGonagall _to discuss availability and to arrange transportation and lodgings._

_Yours Sincerely,_

_Albus Dumbledore_

* * *

.

Mom is also quick to send me her own letter: There is no opening salutation, or inquiry into my schooling. Her only words are scathing:

_What's wrong with you?  
-Mom._

_._

.

Yay, drama.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I like to imagine Audrey as part of the great Hero's Journey. She gets the call to adventure (interfere with HP timeline), but she refuses the call. Of course, she ends up getting dragged in anyway. ^^
> 
> Some of my current thoughts circulate as to whether I should change anything? I rather keep OG!HP where Sirius dies/Fred dies etc etc. My biggest inner dilemma is whether Hermione and Ron should remain an actual couple. I honestly have no idea how their relationship functions. If anyone has recommendations or idea about how Ron/Hermione can realistically function, please share some of your wisdom with me...


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: So Audrey is sixteen, her fifth year at Ilvermorny. She is traipsing off to Magical Britain for the first time.

* * *

For wizards, international travel over large bodies of water was difficult. Left to themselves, magicals could end up killing themselves on accident. With apparition, one could find not only splinch themselves, but they could also end up apparating to the middle of an ocean and drowning. It's such a large concern, that this became the international standard for sixth years students to learn the "bubble-head" charm. Breathing underwater is _so_ important. And while Floo networks were lovely, they were also limited in region accessibility. Like cellular network organizations, there are different companies/entities to uphold it's infastructure. England relied on their Ministry of Magic whereas the American Floo was controlled by three companies.

In the end, I could only travel from United States to Scotland via a Portkey.

Deputy Headmaster McGonagall was kind enough to arrange one with me. Penned with her letter was the brisk explanation that someone will meet me at the Ministry of Magic Atrium. I was a little disappointed I wasn't offered a room in Hogwarts, but I imagine they didn't want any strangers given the situation with Sirius Black.

Activating the portkey with "Hogwarts," I was immediately lurched into the air. While the world around me spins in flashes of colors, my head became increasingly dizzy. After a few minutes of dizzy numbness, all I wanted to do was let go of the portkey and summarily throw up.

It ended after a few minutes and I collapsed into a heap on the floor. I choked, struggling to get enough air in my lungs. My vision dotted with black spots, I could hardly feel my legs, let alone the rest of my body.

Death is not by a thousand cuts. Death is a vortex of color.

"Am I alive?" I croak.

Someone snickers in the background.

_Thank you for your kind words, you fudge-nugget._

Another person, a helpful person, lends me a hand.

"Easy there," they soothed, "we need to get you out of the arrival zone. We got another portkey coming soon, don't want the new arrivals to land on you."

I bob my head up and down in agreement, death by crushing would be a terrible way to go. I look-up to the helpful stranger, and I immediately notice he had kind eyes.

"Thank you," I manage to let out. Then out of perverse curiosity, I wonder if this was something my helpful stranger had to do all the time. "Do custom officers do this all day? This seems like a waste of manpower."

He laughs, "No. I'm an Auror."

"I didn't know British Aurors bothered with International Portkey arrivals."

His grip on my arm tightens, "We've been more focused on border control. Any arrivals and departures within the country has been closely monitored."

Ahh, the Sirius Black incident must be stirring up a ruckus. After brushing up on Magical Britain politics in the last century, I learned a lot of information I've never considered is a unique incarceration system. Only the Brits employ such a barbaric system of incorporating dementor guards. I use the word employment loosely since dementors are not paid in money, but in souls. The implementation of such cruelty has always been under significant international criticism for immoral and unethical treatment of prisoners. English defense has always argued employment of dementors kept their costs down and made for the best prison guards around.

Of course, the escape of Sirius Black casts doubts on the existence of Azkaban in international circles. British Minister Fudge's sad poll approval ratings bodes poorly for his upcoming elections. If he can't manage the Black situation now, he might not get a another term. All in all, Fudge must be under great domestic and foreign pressures.

When my neighborhood friendly Auror doesn't let go, and gestures to a small empty room, I sigh in pained understanding.

"Am I going to get interrogated?" I ask wearily.

The Auror offers me a shrug.

"Think of it more as friendly conversation."

.

_Yeah, not an interrogation at all._

.

* * *

.

"What's your purpose in England?" The man barks out. Unfortunately, the nice Auror left me, and left a rather surly replacement.

At this chump of a man, I resist the urge to roll my eyes. He's the kind of person to take great offense. I pull out Dumbledore's letter and McGonagall's follow-up correspondence. I wasn't sure if they wanted it, but I also handed over my passport.

"I'm here for an interview with Albus Dumbledore."

His eyes narrow in accusation, not even bothering to look over my documents. "You're too young to interview for the DADA position."

This time, I did roll my eyes. This two-bit customs officer was now just being silly. "As you can see, I am in student robes of Ilvermorny Academy. I'm here to interview for an Alchemy apprenticeship with Master Dumbledore."

"Dumbledore is headmaster. He doesn't take on students."

" _Dumbledore,"_ I stressed, "is a certified member of the Alchemy Guild and a Master of Alchemy. By guild law he is required to accept apprenticeships for his tutelage." I scowled at the reminder of how remiss he had been in his duties these past few decades. "He has taken on apprentices before, like Minerva McGonagall."

The man sneers. "I've heard nothing about Dumbledore accepting apprentices this year. You're the first one to make such outrageous claims."

 _Oh, for Christ's sake, this blow hard._ Throwing all sanity out the window, I stare him down with absolute disdain.

"It's not my problem if you're out of the loop. Didn't Master Dumbledore or McGonagall file with the British government for my international portkey? You have all the paperwork if my portkey got approved. I don't need to answer any of these questions. Now either let me go, or give me a good reason as to why I'm here."

The man flushed an ugly shade of red. "Look here, I ask the questions. Not you. Unless you want any trouble, you better watch your tone—"

"Or what?" I demand. "You're going to send me to prison? You're going to deny my entry? If that's the case, I would love to leave as soon as possible. Can't wait to tell everyone about how dangerous it is to be England. Sirius Black and dementors are roaming everywhere, scaring the daylights out of every one." I scoff in annoyance. "And if you're going to send me to prison, I would love to see your government justify not only with the United States, but also with the Empire of China over imprisoning a mouthy sixteen-year-old in Azkaban"

I give him a beatific smile. "I always wanted to the poster-child for human rights."

The man splutters in shock. Before he could raise his wand against me, the door bangs open.

"All right Nott, you had your chance," a voice barked out. It was the kind Auror man from earlier. Evidently, he was listening to the entire conversation. Nott gives me a dark glower, but he gets up from his interrogating chair. The other Auror who interrupted our "friendly chat," sits in the vacated chair. His eyes are no longer crinkled in kind amusement, but with sharp clarity.

"Please answer any questions clearly and concisely. We don't want to keep you any longer than necessary."

I nod my head in understanding, and the Auror begins firing his questions rapidly.

"How long is your visit?" he begins with.

"Three days."

"And where are you staying?"

"At Hogsmeade, in the lodgings known as Three Broomsticks."

"Who is your point of contact?"

My eyebrows scrunch together, McGonagall was not clear. "I'm not sure," I slowly begin, "Master Dumbledore instructed me to contact McGonagall for arrangements. McGonagall said she'll send someone else to guide me, but she didn't say who."

The Auror nods, taking a few notes with a quill before proceeding forward.

"How long have you been in correspondence with Albus Dumbledore?"

"A month."

"Just a month?" he presses.

"Yes. I wrote to him a month ago for the apprenticeship position."

There's some shuffling of paper. "But your mother frequently corresponds with Albus Dumbledore."

I fidget uncomfortably in my chair. Why did he bring up my mother? "My mother and Master Dumbledore are both active in the field of Alchemy. They correspond over the field and guild matters," I try to explain.

"But the Huang family is also quite influential in the Chinese Empire," the Auror gravely states, "practically royalty."

I try not to snort. People with the Huang last name are in the thousands. 29 million if you include the non-magical Chinese. Mom's family may be descended from Huang _shidi_ , but only if you squint really really hard at the family tree.

"No," I say with amusement. "My mother is from a branch family of the royal family, nowhere near the throne."

The Auror does not let up his line of questioning. "How far is your family from the line of succession?"

I shrug. "I honestly don't know, but dozens of people have to die before my First Uncle could get even in the hierarchy succession line. Maybe hundreds of people are before him.."

He was not expecting my response. His face blanks as he quickly flips over the rest of the documents in his hands.

"I see," he tersely states.

_Yeah, bub. Are we done here?_

He's not.

"Is your family allied with Dumbledore in any way?" he continues.

"…no" I incredulously comment. If you follow Alchemy politics, you will definitely know the answer to that one. Forget about allies, talk about family _enemies._

The Auror with the kind eyes seems to have finished. He goes through his paperwork one more time, before grabbing onto my passport. When he reaches for his wand, I instinctively flinch away. Lucky for me, the Auror simply pressed his wand against my passport.

"Welcome to the Magical Britain," he intones, "Your stay has been approved for three days. As an unaccompanied foreign minor, you are allowed the usage of your wand, but only in magical territories. Your stay has only been approved for Hogwarts, so do not venture into muggle territory. We cannot account for your safety given new security measures."

He hands me my documents and my passport.

"Thanks," I say wearily. "I can go now?"

He flashes me a smile, and he waves his wand to open the room's door.

"Exit is on the right."

.

* * *

.

By the time I enter the lobby of the Britain's Ministry of Magic, I'm drained. The sudden interrogation session caught me completely off guard. All I wanted to do was bash my head against the wall until I pass out in blissful slumber.

Still, when I entered the Atrium, I had to admire its homely beauty.

Britain's Ministry of Magic was quite old, and the infrastructure was reflection of centuries old spell work and ward crafting. The walls were made of faded red brick, the floors a polished marble. There was a fountain in the heart of the lobby, where my point-of-contact was waiting for me under the statue with the golden etched carvings.

In the middle of all the hustle and bustle, I make out a tall gangly figure standing motionless. He had red hair and bright eyes, dark Hogwarts robes with a polished badge underneath a lion emblem.

He notices me and stands impossibly straighter. His long legs eat the floor, and he's soon standing a few feet from me.

"Miss Audrey Zhang?"

"Yes?" I respond curiously.

He clears his throat, before reaching out a hand for a handshake. "I'm Percy Weasley, Head Boy of Hogwarts. The Deputy Headmistress has assigned me as your point of contact for the next few days."

I grasp his hand with mine, making sure to give it a firm squeeze.

When we let go, Percy gestures to the space ahead of us. "I'm sure you must be tired from a long journey. If you follow me, we can take the Floo to your lodgings at Hogsmeade."

As we walked across the Atrium, I couldn't help but sneak a few glances at Percy. It was my first-time meeting someone from the stories, and I couldn't help but muse over him.

He was described as the ambitious, studious, pompous, and boring one of the Weasley lot. He was also the family "traitor," the Black Sheep of the family.

From a strictly aesthetic view, and I mean a strictly aesthetic view, Percy was quite attractive. All of the Weasleys were known to be attractive, so it's not that surprising that Percy was attractive in his own way. He wasn't cool like Bill, buff like Charlie, but tall and graceful. Unlike the actor portraying Percy in the movies, Percy had a definite more feminine face. There was no round nose anywhere, only a long aqualine nose. To be honest, he looked like a young Eddie Redmayne. Across his pale face was a smattering of cute light freckles. On his face was a pair of ridiculous old-man glasses.

While his clothes were clearly secondhand, they were carefully pressed with care. His shoes, equally scruffy at the edges, gleamed with soft polish. Buttoned robes all the way to his neck, his outfit was held together by a traditional knotted black tie. His hair was carefully coiffed with gel.

It's a good look, a crisp professional look.

Looking at his careful and painstaking appearance, I have to admit a newfound respect for perfect Percy. Bill who regarded as the dashing Curse Breaker and Charlie as the courageous dragon tamer. After the eldest two Weasleys, Percy may comes across as positively boring. However, since being re-born and having to real-politick my way in the family and at school, I've come to appreciate Percy in a new light.

Family name in wizarding circles was everything. The right names opened doors, brought connections. The wrong name meant a closed door and terse rejections. An infamous name associated with scum, like the Weasleys, meant being the butt of every wizarding joke.

From my understanding of British History, the Weasleys were once a powerful family. They were closely aligned with families of power like the Malfoy's, Blacks, and Prewetts. They were pure-bloods for generations, and so they were in the Book of Gold, part of the the Sacred 28, and well-regarded for centuries. However, due to series of embarrassing public spectacles and declaration of pro-muggle policies, their name have been steadily declined. The late great-grandfather Weasley, Arthur Weasley's grandfather, was known as a muggle-lover who had failed half his OWLS. He had barely kept his wand. In order to find a wife, he ended up marrying a muggle, much to the horror of everyone. The son of such a union led to another uninspiring wizard, Arthur's Weasley's father. The man in question was also unremarkable in school and barely employed before passing away suddenly. While Arthur Weasley himself was Prefect and even Head-Boy at Hogwarts, his well-known fondness for muggle objects & poor family name barred him from any good position in the government. In my honest opinion, I think Dumbledore had a lot to do with Arthur's employment.

So it takes centuries to build Weasley name, but only a short time to destroy it.

To me, Bill and Charlie came across as cowards. They didn't want to work in the Ministry, where their father was the butt of every joke. They didn't want to stay in Britain, where everyone disregarded their family name. So they took the easy way out. They fled. They fled to far-flung places like Egypt and Romania where no one would know the Weasley name. They wanted to start their lives on a clean state, to strive for their own futures far away from England. But Percy-Percy had stayed. He chose to buckle down in the Ministry, suffer abuse and metaphorical glass-ceilings to make the name Weasley _mean something._

It's clear that seventeen-year-old Percy is ambitious. Eager to prove his worth to anyone and everyone, he easily comes across as pompous in his desperation for perfection and success.

For this, I pity him.

I look at the boy in question, and notice how Percy is walking with great purpose. He looks every-inch of a serious individual. His professional sincerity is sweet as he keeps looking over to me, pausing in his steps to match my own gait.

"So, Miss Zhang," he states, trying to begin polite conversation, "How are you liking Britain so far?"

I hide my smile behind my hand. "Considering I arrived in Britain two hours ago, I hardly think the lobby of the Ministry of Magic is sufficient basis for an opinion."

Percy's ears redden in embarrassment. Before he could start fumbling, I gently touch his elbow. "Perhaps you can show me some of the sights in Hogsmeade? A tour would be lovely, especially since I'll be spending the next three days here."

He clears his throat, hands reaching to smooth the bottom of his robes.

"It'll be my pleasure."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Writer's Note: Is this a date? It might be a date. :)
> 
> My scene with the Auror interrogation scene was heavily prompted from Fudge's paranoia that Dumbledore is trying to garner international power to usurp Fudge's position as Minister of Magic. Fudge is going off his rocker and desperately trying to prevent Dumbledore from gaining any power. Hence, all the interrogation of Audrey and her family.


End file.
